I am an inveterate nomad who carries the DNA of a migratory desert dweller. When I feel called to relocate, I prepare with little or no hesitation. Oftentimes I pack and stand ready for months while the energy lines up for actual physical movement. For me, moving is a sacred ritual and a potent symbol of an engaged life journey, and I bring to bear as much presence as I can muster.
Suddenly, it seems everyone is on the move. They’re moving away from relationships, jobs, houses, towns, cities, communities, states, and heading to something new. Something unknown, perhaps. Some of you have had the rug pulled out from under you and feel desperate and dislocated. Others are manifesting long-held visions and await “The New” with radiance and outstretched arms.
Ultimately, no matter why, where, how, or with whom you are on the move, the energy you bring to the experience is wholly up to you. So, what’s it gonna be? Pain or Pleasure? Resistance or Surrender? Miracles or Madness?
Truly, what do you want to take with you? In even more blunt terms: How are you dealing with your stuff?
Each and every item you live with carries an energetic signature and is imbued with memories and past experiences. I recently watched someone throw old, dusty, rumpled, mismatched, broken, dirty pieces of life into crates and boxes. I observed quietly (No small feat, that!) and saw the patterns in this individual’s life. Things are never brought to completion. Everything is left half-finished. Beginnings and endings are glossed over, never acknowledged, let alone honored. To “let go of” is fraught with loss, grief, and the emotions they carry.
Nope, this isn’t about housekeeping, and it’s not about living on a limited budget. Nearly everything I own has come to me via consignment and thrift stores, free boxes in front of homes and in alleys, and as a result of helping others clear their clutter. I routinely ask friends if I can review their castoffs — and generally then offer to take the bones to the donation drop-off. I continue to be astounded at the new and nearly new items relegated to dumpsters: Why not just crumple up dollar bills of every denomination and roast marshmallows over the fire?
Everything is vibration, therefore, everything is “alive.” These so-called inanimate objects have a life cycle, too. They need to be with people who love them, appreciate them, and will give them the opportunity to express “themselves” in appropriate ways. If they’re “done” in their current form, they’re free to go. Face it: If you reincarnated as a blender, wouldn’t you positively yearn for the opportunity to puree, mix, froth and whip? (More on this concept in my earlier post, The Secret Life of Words Revealed, found here.)
There is no better opportunity to wipe your slate clean, than when you are moving house, apartment, double-wide, tipi, or shop. Do you actually desire to drag all your old baggage (physically and metaphysically) into a brand-spanking-new life?
Does it honor the memory of your dear, departed mother if you toss her old things into a box that once transported chicken breasts to your local Chinese restaurant — or might it be a more loving gesture to wipe them off, wrap them up with gratitude and love, and then give them another shot at being enjoyed by someone else?
If you haven’t already seen “The Story of Stuff,” check out this quick tease below. For the whole story, click right here.